


Floating vials

by MaximumCat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Fear, Gen, Headcanon, How Do I Tag, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Needles, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Restraints, Socks, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 00:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaximumCat/pseuds/MaximumCat
Summary: Moira could feel the gravity around her change noticeably, which was one of the weirdest sensations she had ever felt (and she had done some weird things to herself in her experiments). Her lab coat tails were rapidly floating up again, almost at waist level. The ruined cart was also hovering well above the floor again, with its discarded vials falling into an uneasy orbit around it. She was more than a little concerned that she herself was going to start floating away if she didn’t calm him down five seconds ago.“No no no no no no no,” De Kuiper was muttering under his breath softly, beginning to rock back and forth slowly, eyes unfocused, “Hold it together, hold it together…”------------------Freshly brought into Talon, Moira is tested with a simple task. Get a blood sample from a man who can control gravity and has a shaky grasp on reality. Try not to get your skull split open, Doctor.Rated T for bad language and mention of medical procedures (drawing blood) and violence/death.No romance - Timeline wonkiness (author's fault - too confused/unable to confirm to fix RN)Not canon compliant - not Beta readalthough what is canon, anyway? (no one knows, especially not Blizzard)





	Floating vials

**Author's Note:**

> So this popped in my head a few days ago and I had to write it. Like literally. I was unable to sleep until i started writing it down. I have other Ow stories to write, but NO. This one was a bully and had be finished first. :|
> 
> Yes, there are mistakes in the timeline. I wasn't sure when Talon "rescued" Sigma, and only saw the post about "you can hear Widowmaker and Reaper's gun shots as well as Moira's Biotic orb in sigma's trailer" yesterday (which Btw, I don't doubt that they are there, but... I can't hear it??) At that point, I didn't want to scrap this, so I finished it up anyway. 
> 
> I do include a few minor head canons, the most major being: 1.) Moira is not an evil demon, but a person with fears, hopes, dreams, etc. However, she does hover around Chaotic neutral. Mostly, she just wants to get shit done so she can get back to research. She's curious and sometimes creepy about things, but she's not going to actively hurt people for no reason. 2.) Moira got pulled into a field medic squad during the Omnic crisis. She would have been old enough to do so and with how they make it sound like humanity really was about to be wiped out, they probably needed all hands on deck, so she got pulled to help out. It also helps explain why she released her controversial paper so late in life compared to others, because her education got put on hold.
> 
> The last thing I'll note is that while I, myself, have depression and anxiety (and based a bit of Sigma on my own experiences), that I am terrible writer, so don't take this work as a definitive essay on how mental illness affects people or how it should be portrayed. EVERYONE is different even when they have the same mental health issues. I Don't think I have treated this subject matter in a way that is mocking or belittling, but if you feel that I have, let me know. Politely! 
> 
> Hopefully the story makes some amount of sense?  
Hopefully it's enjoyable?
> 
> I dunno. I'm tired.
> 
> Come tell me how to improve at https://maximumcatfeels.tumblr.com

Having a resting bitch face was more trouble than it was worth, Moira thought with a sigh. Once people knew you were a bitch, they also knew that you got shit done, therefore, if something needed doing, you’d be called up to do it, regardless of any actual qualifications.

Ok, maybe that wasn’t how it _actually _worked, but it certainly felt that way when she had been gotten a knock on the door of her tiny temporary lab at Talon. She had been trying to recreate a formula she had been working on in Blackwatch; the one to make a near-perfect assassin. Slowed pulse, better oxygen conversion of blood so breathing was less needed, and a few other “improvements” would be a hell of a way to impress Talon right off the bat. But alas, she was interrupted by a Vietnamese man knocking on her door.

And said Vietnamese man had simply said, “We have a situation, and you need to come with me. Now.” once she had even opened the door a fraction.

Moira had wanted to argue, but she was still pretty new, and even with Talon scooping her up so quickly after being thrown out of Blackwatch, she didn’t want to provoke her new employers right away. So she set down her test tubes, threw away her blue nitrile gloves, straightened her new (and too-stiffly-starched for comfort) lab coat before walking into the hallway.

He nodded, shut the door behind her and then briskly walked down the corridor. She trailed after him, consciously taking small steps as to not overtake his speed.

“I am filling in for another handler at the moment,” the man began without preamble, “and her current assignment is due for some blood work before the end of the day. The normal phlebotomists are either out for the day or injured, and the normal nurses won’t go in without a doctor. That’s where you come in.”

Moira felt a sneer form on her face. Really? She was a glorified nurse now? Or maybe he was confused about her qualifications? What kind of idiots did Talon have?

“I’m a geneticist with PhDs, not an actual medical doctor.”

The man shot her an unreadable look. “I’m aware, but you are the best I have right now. Besides, I’ve read your file, you’ve filled in for that role before, with very good results. Also, you have experience with drawing blood from … ah … dangerous people. This should be no problem for you.”

Ok then, Moira thought, this is some sort of test. Hmm, she could work with this, but more information would be needed. She wasn’t going to go in blind to do a blood stick on a raging bull if she could help it.

“I have…” she agreed slowly, “but, I always knew what the danger was exactly before I went in.”

The handler nodded as he directed her down a right hand turn, “I suppose it would be useful to tell you, so you don’t suffer the same injuries as the previous staff… The patient is a new acquisition. Project Sigma was his title in his previous residence, but his true name is Dr. Siebren de Kuiper. Not that we are sure he even remembers it. He has a … ah… special ability that has proven to be quite dangerous. That, in conjunction with his delicate mental state, is why we’re currently down half of the medical staff for this base.”

Moira scrunched her eyebrows. So far she had as many questions left as he had given answers.

As the man stopped at a keypad locked door, she took the opportunity to ask, “What mental state are we talking about? Slightly annoyed or violently unhinged?”

“A wild mixture of being terrified of everything and then furiously demanding his freedom with a sprinkling of auditory and visual hallucinations for fun.”

Ah. Yes. _Fun_.

“And his ‘special ability’?”

The handler stopped suddenly and looked her in the eye.

“Fluctuations in gravity that make you rise up… then slam to the ground.”

* * *

Two nurses stood outside of the patient’s room, quietly and nervously discussing that they saw through the tinted windows as Moira walked up.

The handler (a Mr. Nguyen- as Moira learned after he _finally _deigned to tell her his name) had outfitted her with a small earpiece and then retreated to some other room. Presumably, there were cameras inside and he was going to watch in safety as she got her head bashed into the floor.

Moira nodded at the nurses in greeting, asking bluntly, “Do you have everything set up for the blood draw?”

The nurses looked at each other, then back to Moira. The male nurse, with the name tag “Greg”, spoke up first, “We can get another cart with the materials ready, the uh… the first cart is inside.”

The female nurse, “Marie”, quietly added, “It’s not usable anymore. Everything got smashed…”

Moira took a deep breath. Ok, she would NOT imagine herself being smashed into the concrete floor repeatedly. She just wouldn’t do it. Nope. Not doing it.

“One of you go get another cart ready. I’ll go get him prepared,” she said brusquely, trying very hard to not think about her tombstone being: here lies Moira O’Deorain – dead of skull fracture by insane man.

Once again, the nurses looked at each other before nodding. Greg trotted off further down the hall, presumably to get another cart ready. Marie twiddled her fingertips nervously, looking at Moira the same way one would look upon pitiable idiot marching off to their inescapable doom. It made Moira’s hackles rise.

“You stay here. I’ll call for you if I need you.” Moira stated to Marie with an air of authority.

Moira then turned to the door, tilted her head up a few degrees, took a deep breath, let it out, and finally, opened the door and went inside.

* * *

The room was white. Everything was white. The floors, the walls, the bed in the center of the room; all devoid of color. There was a mangled cart to the right of the bed, the vials and needles to draw blood peeking out from its remains.

However, the man lying on the bed was wearing orange with his wrists and ankles in heavy manacles. They seemed to be magnetic, with how there was no chains or wire between them. His orange sock clad feet rubbed restlessly against the white bed. He didn’t seem to notice Moira when she stepped inside, so she took the time to run through some ideas and memories in her head.

  * Don’t show fear. You can piss yourself later, but do not show fear in the now - Reyes voice growled in her head.

Moira wasn’t one to show much weakness anyway, but her time in Blackwatch had cemented this rule in her head. If your target/opponent/aggressor sensed fear, you were as good as dead.

  * Be professional and confidant, they don’t need to know you’re panicking too - Her squad leader in the medic group during the Omnic Crisis rang out.

This one had been invaluable during the Crisis, and continued to be good when making consultations with distraught patients. Even if you have no idea what’s happening, acting professional and confident will put your patient at ease.

  * No sudden movements or sounds - Genji’s low hiss sprang to mind.

This one was learned the hard way. Dangerous people tend to be twitchy. Telegraph every move. Explain what you are doing before and while you are doing it.

Keeping these in mind, Moira called out to the man on the bed.

“Dr. de Kuiper? Are you awake?”

The figure on the bed sat up suddenly, his pale face and eyes locked onto Moira immediately.

Moira took a moment to look at him while she waited for a verbal response. In his prime, de Kuiper would have been a large muscular man. He had definitely atrophied though. Perhaps due to his condition he couldn’t be exercised? His hair line was receding sharply along a widow’s peak, and his eyes had bags underneath them. His pale blue eyes were darting all over Moira’s face, with dark bushy eyebrows above them. His sharp nose had deep lines on either side that extended down to a thin lipped mouth.

Moira waited patiently, but de Kuiper didn’t seem to be interested in responding. His eyes suddenly widened and then went unfocused over her left shoulder.

Maybe he was having a hallucination of some sort?

“Dr. de Kuiper?” Moira repeated, drawing herself up taller so hide her nervousness.

His eyes snapped back to hers and he blinked. Then he blinked again. Finally, it seemed to sink in that she wasn’t a hallucination and was waiting on a response, as he cleared his throat and said, “Yes…?”

“My name is Dr. Moira O’Deorain.” She gave a slow half bow then continued, “I’m here to take a blood sample.”

De Kuiper just blinked at her. “Oh… ok.” Then he rubbed his socked feet on the bed, seemingly without conscious thought. And then he rubbed them again, a soft whoosh coming from the contact of the two materials.

That apparently ruined whatever moment of lucidity he had because his brow furrowed and he began agitatedly rubbing his feet on the bed.

Moira watched for a moment, curious.

De Kuiper started muttering something under his breath (Moira had no idea what it was, she didn’t speak whatever language it was – maybe Dutch?) then he started clawing at the ankle manacles.

“Doctor?” Moira queried, unsure what he was trying to do.

“I want them off!” The man yelled, still futilely pawing at his ankle restraints. “I want them off now!”

“He must not take them off,” came Nguyen’s voice in her earpiece.

Moira resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What kind of idiot did they take her for?

“Off! Off! Off! I want them off!” De Kuiper voice was becoming louder and more agitated. The remnants of the destroyed cart and vials were starting to hover off the ground. Moira could feel the tails of her lab coat floating away from her body. He then switched back to whatever language he was muttering instead of English, but Moira had the feeling that it was more demands for… something… to be taken off of him.

Somewhere in Moira’s brain came a thought unbidden.

  * Clarify what the patient wants and needs. A person in pain cannot always articulate well, but pay attention and you can usually guess the real issue – Ziegler’s voice drifted through.

Ugh. Ziegler. Well… it was sound advice. It’s worth a shot.

“What do you want me to take off?” Moira asked with an even tone.

“What are you doing? We can’t take off those restraints!” Nguyen hissed in her earpiece.

De Kuiper was still ineffectively trying to get the ankles free, so Moira ignored Nguyen and asked again, with a more forceful intonation. “What do you want me to remove, Dr. de Kuiper?”

He looked up with a frantic look in his eyes, “These things! On my feet! Can’t… remember… the right word in English? They are trapped under these… these iron circles!”

“I can’t take off your restraints, Doctor.”

He shook his head vigorously, “No! No, not that! I understand that! Under them!”

Moira blinked. Trapped under the iron circles? Whatever it was it was under his restraints, but on his feet? Was he hallucinating?

Or wait…He kept rubbing his feet on the bed before he had this mini episode. Maybe… Maybe he didn’t like socks?

“Do you want me to help remove your socks?” Moira asked.

De Kuiper stopped suddenly and beamed at her, but the cart in midair wobbled dangerously. “Yes! Yes! They are so bad! I cannot think with them on! It’s too much to process!”

“What the hell? What’s what he wants?” Nguyen muttered, followed by what Moira assumes were some creative curses in Vietnamese.

Moira gave a small nod to the patient. “Yes, I can help with that. May I come closer to help you?”

De Kuiper nodded shyly, watching with wide grateful eyes Moira’s slow deliberate steps to his bed.

Now that she was closer, she could tell that he hadn’t been bathed in a while. Ugh, his feet were probably going to stink. But she had smelled worse with cadavers, and she liked not being smashed against concrete floors so… needs must.

“I’m going to take them off now, ok?”

De Kuiper nodded again.

Moira slowly tugged on the toe of a sock. It took a bit more effort than she anticipated, until she realized that they had were compression socks that went up to his knees. Ah, they were trying to prevent blood clots in his legs. A good idea, but apparently he didn’t like the sensation of socks. With his delicate mental state, maybe it was a sensory overload?

That hypothesis was pretty much confirmed with the huge sigh of relief once the first sock came completely off revealing long toes. Moira glanced over and saw the more relaxed line of de Kuiper’s shoulders. She folded up the sock and stuffed it in a pocket before proceeding with the other sock.

De Kuiper wiggled happily once the other sock was gone. Rubbing his feet on last time on the bed before stretching his legs and long toes. “Yes, much better. Thank you.”

Moira stuffed the other sock into her pocket and slowly, gingerly perched on the edge of the bed. With her height, he might take her standing too close as looming, and she’d been told in the past that her looming was quite terrifying. “Of course. I see you don’t like socks, Dr. De Kuiper. Have you always disliked them? Or is this new?”

“Always hated them. Ever since these restraints though, if I take them off, they just come back. They must be trapped under there. I hope they don’t come back.”

Moira nodded absently. A little off logically, but honestly, she got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t _quite _all there and that whatever method that had been using to deal with him was utter shite. Had he been in a proper mental facility? Or just stuffed in a corner to rot? She wasn’t a psychologist or psychiatrist, but surely someone had been trying to get him on proper medication to help him think straight. Right?

For now, she’d humor him and talk with his team about this later. If he was a Talon asset, they weren’t doing it out of charity. And the gravity manipulation was the obvious true reason for their interest. But he’d be no good to Talon if his marbles were all gone.

“I’ll talk to the nurses and see what we can do to prevent the socks from coming back.”

He brightened visibly. “Thank you!”

“Now then, since I’ve helped you with your sock problem, I’d like you to help me.”

“Oh, of course! Of course!”

God, he was like small eager to please puppy, Moira thought. “I need to take a blood sample.”

De Kuiper suddenly stilled. Then he started to fidget, visibly uncomfortable with the idea. In the edge of her vision, Moira could see the ruined cart float a little higher.

Moira kept quiet, keeping her eyes trained on him. Let him do the talking, she reminded herself. This has to go at his pace.

Finally, he flicked his eyes up at her sheepishly, “Will it… will it hurt?”

Moira sat up and crossed one long leg over the other, laying her hands in her lap, resolutely ignoring how her lab coat tails were still floating by her side. “I will make it as quick and painless as possible. You should not feel more than a small prick at the site of the draw.”

He looked away and nodded to himself. “How much do you need?”

Moira had no idea what they even needed the blood for, so she couldn’t hazard a guess, but she decided on the spot that she wasn’t going to spook him with large numbers.

“Just one vial,” she said while Nguyen stated “three” into her earpiece.

“Just one?” De Kuiper raised a distinctive eyebrow.

Moira nodded. “Just the one.” She could feel Nguyen’s silent disapproval through her comm.

De Kuiper nodded. “Ok, I can do that.”

“Excellent,” Moira slowly uncrossed her legs and stood, “Now I will go fetch the materials. Could you kindly roll up your sleeve?”

De Kuiper looked his hands, and then snapped his head up to give her a panicked look, and Moira nearly face-palmed at her herself. No, Moira, you plonker, he can’t roll up his sleeve. He’s in restraints, you absolute numpty.

“Apologies, I forgot about your… Well, I’ll go get the key to … to that,” Moira waved at his hands, “and then we can get started.”

De Kuiper just furrowed his bushy brows before glancing at his manacled hands, then back to her.

Moira debated backing up slowly to the door, so she wouldn’t turn her back to him, but she also wanted the nurse to come in. She walked slowly to the door and opened it a crack.

“Do you have the key to his restraints?” She asked in a low voice to Marie who was looking at her like she’d grown another head.

Marie seemed frozen, and Moira did not have time for this bullshite. “The key?” She demanded with a snap of her fingers.

Marie jumped, but then nodded and dug out a key fob from her pocket. Moira plucked it out of dazed nurse’s hands with her right, withered hand. Marie gaped at her.

Moira’s eyes flicked to the movement behind the nurse. Greg had come back with a restocked cart. “Stay out here until I call for you. It might be a few more moments.”

The nurses nodded in tandem, with the Marie still staring at her withered hand. Moira rolled her eyes and softly shut the door.

“Use the key fob to connect the arm restraints to the ankle restraints; there’s a button on the side. You can then un-attach one arm restraint, by pressing the key’s top button while touching it to the restraint you want so you can remove it and roll up his sleeve,” came Nguyen’s instructions into her ear as she took a moment to look at the key fob in her hands.

Typical. First, they make it sound like she can’t remove any restraints, but now it’s fine to do just that. Moira glanced at the man on the bed. Hmm, built big but no exercise in years. Maybe he moves quick, but if he turns violent and tries to grab her, she could fade away towards the door and high tail it.

Not ideal. But a solid and simple backup plan. Reyes would be proud. 

Striding over to the bed again, Moira noted that the destroyed cart was back on the ground but a few vials were still floating a few centimeters off the floor. Progress. Progress was good.

She held up the key fob to de Kuiper’s inquisitive gaze and gave it a small shake.

"Let’s get you ready.”

* * *

All in all, getting De Kuiper ready and his sleeve rolled up had been easy.

He had been perfectly docile as she gently arranged him as she needed so she could go through the steps to keep him restrained, calmly talking about what she was/ was going to do as she did it. De Kuiper had followed the movements of her hands with his eyes, almost unblinkingly. Especially her withered right hand, but she was used to it.

Once she had his left arm un-cuffed and rolled up his sleeve past his elbow, she straightened up and took stock of the situation. With his right arm restraint magnetized to his ankle ones, the poor man was forced into a position where he was sitting on the bed, hugging his own knees with his right arm. The left one lay limply on the bed next to him. His face was turned up to look at her own face, his eyes wide.

It all reminded Moira of a child sitting on a bed waiting for his parent to read him a story.

“I’ll be right back,” Moira reassured him, gently patting the bed near his foot, before turning to go fetch one of the nurses with the cart in the hallway. But she stopped cold when she heard a sudden clang. She whipped her head around and saw Greg trying to get the cart in the door. He had accidentally let the door hit the metal cart.

The nurse’s horrified expression and wide eyes directed behind her made Moira’s breath catch. The whimper turning into panicked breathing emanating from de Kuiper didn’t help her rising nerves either.

Moira turned quickly back towards de Kuiper, who was barreling towards hyperventilating. His large frame was beginning to tremble and the fingers on his free hand was drumming an erratic pattern into the bedding he was sitting on. His eyes were wide and trained on the pitiful buffoon of a nurse behind her.

Moira could feel the gravity around her change noticeably, which was one of the weirdest sensations she had ever felt (and she had done some _weird _things to herself in her experiments). Her lab coat tails were rapidly floating up again, almost at waist level. The ruined cart was also hovering well above the floor again, with its discarded vials falling into an uneasy orbit around it. She was more than a little concerned that she herself was going to start floating away if she didn’t calm him down five seconds ago.

“No no no no no no no,” De Kuiper was muttering under his breath softly, beginning to rock back and forth slowly, eyes unfocused, “Hold it together, hold it together…”

Moira racked her brains frantically. What were some steps to help calm a panic attack again? McCree used to help Genji all the time, what did he do? Uh… breathing! Yes! Breathing is good!

“Dr. de Kuiper?” Moira fought to keep her voice calm and even, “Dr. de Kuiper, can you please look at me?”

After no response, Moira tried again, a little louder and more forceful, “Dr. de Kuiper, please _look at me_.”

Finally, his eyes tracked over to her and focused. Good.

“Breathe with me, please. Breathe in.” She took an exaggerated breath in, and watched him struggle to obey with a shaky breath.

How long were they supposed to hold the breath for? Shite, shite, shite, she couldn’t remember; uh, hopefully this was long enough.

“Good, now breathe out.” She let her breath out, making sure to do it loudly. De Kuiper followed her example, but his exhale was much faster than hers. Ok. It usually takes a few rounds to make a difference; time to do it again.

“Very good, breathe in…. and out… In… aaaaand out.”

A few more cycles and de Kuiper was looking less shaky and the cart with its small ring of vials was closer to the floor than before. So were her coattails, now only coming up to her knees. Still, just to be safe… she would try another technique that may help. Well, she’d have to modify it heavily, but hopefully it would still help him ground himself in the present. “That’s good, now, please tell me how many windows there are.”

De Kuiper’s brows furrowed, but he dutifully replied, “There are… three? One on the door and two on either side of it?”

“What’s the texture of the surface you are sitting on?”

He scrunched his toes into the bed’s surface and rubbed it with the fingers of his free hand. “Scratchy like hospital sheets… I don’t like it…”

Moira made a mental note to tell the medical team to pay attention to his high sensitivity to sensory input. “I’ll talk to the staff about changing the sheets later. What can you smell?”

De Kuiper’s head cocked a few degrees. Just like a confused puppy, Moira thought. “Um… bleach? Some sort of cleaner?”

Moira nodded. She was more or less nose blind to most common chemical cleaning smells at this point, but that sounded pretty plausible. Thankfully, de Kuiper was looking a lot more lucid now, so she decided to skip asking him about what he could hear and taste.

"Do you feel well enough for us to continue?” Moira asked. As much as she’d really rather not waste the time she has spent here, she liked her brains to _remain inside her own skull, thank you_. If de Kuiper didn’t feel up to continuing, she’d just retreat and tell Nguyen to go stick his head up his own arse.

“I… I think I’m ok, now. Thank you.” De Kuiper tried for an easy smile, but Moira was pretty sure he missed.

Hmm, call him out on that frankly obvious lie, or just roll with it? Well, she wasn’t dead yet, and she really did dislike leaving assignments incomplete. Plus, she was very certain that this whole thing was some sort of test. For what, exactly, she wasn’t sure, but it felt… important. Time to keep pressing on.

Moira took a quick glance over her shoulder. As expected, Greg, the absolute chancer, was still in the doorway with the cart. She shot him a nasty glare and jerked her head towards the bed. Greg, to his credit, jumped and then actually started moving into the room.

She let Greg pass by and stood by the edge of the bed, hoping that he would grow a pair and just do the stick now that she’s done all the hard work. However, Greg rolled the cart to the side with de Kuiper’s free arm and then stood back and blinked at Moira like some sort of mentally deficient owl.

Wonderful.

Moira tried not to roll her eyes as she stepped forward and grabbed a pair of purple nitrile gloves. Snapping them on, she arranged the various tools she would need to her liking, before looking at de Kuiper. He looked apprehensive, but he didn’t seem to be about to go off the rails. No shaking, trembling, hyperventilating, and his gaze was focused on her face.

Moira slowly sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. “May I see your arm?”

De Kuiper nods once and slowly raises his arm, which she gently arranges to be able to perform the blood draw.

“If you like, you can start to look away now. You will feel a small pain at the site of the needle, but I will do my best to make it as painless and quick as possible.”

De Kuiper makes a small noise in the back of his throat and then surprises her by saying, “I… I want to watch. I want to know what’s going on.”

Hmm, she’ll have to reflect upon that at a later time. Most people want to look away.

“Very well. Do as I ask and this will be over soon.”

* * *

Thankfully, it is over soon. The draw goes without a hitch; she finds a nice vein, gets one vial of blood (although it didn’t escape her notice that Greg had still set out three vials on the cart and seemed surprised that she stopped after only one), before finishing up. De Kuiper’s eyes had followed her hands throughout the entire process.

She’s the in process of securing the cotton ball at the puncture site with medical tape when de Kuiper mumbles in a small voice, “…Thank you. It _was_quick, just like you promised.”

“No need to thank me. But may I ask, why did you want to watch?” She smooths down the tape strip onto his skin and starts peeling the gloves off of her fingers, flicking her gaze back up to his face.

He meets her eyes with his pale gaze, his eyes sad, “Watched to make sure what I saw matched up with what I felt.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

De Kuiper smiles sadly at her, “If I may be so bold, may I ask a few questions now?”

Moira deposits her used gloves on the cart and nods to Greg, who immediately started towards the door at a brisk pace.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer any questions about your condition, I was really only brought in for the blood draw, but I will do my best. Please, go ahead and ask while I get your sleeve and restraints back to normal.” She started unrolling his sleeve so she could put the restraint on without chafing his wrist.

De Kuiper sighed and looked down at his toes, “Ah, well, they aren’t about me. For the most part.”

“Hmm?” Moira raised an eyebrow and looked at him, gently smoothing his sleeve down so it didn’t bunch up on his arm.

“Are…? Are your eyes…? Oh god, how do I ask this?”

Oh, she knew what he was asking about. Her eyes never failed to get attention from others. Although, with his mental state, and the fact that her eyes were not only different colors, but one was also a typically unnatural color, he must be worried that he was hallucinating things.

“Are my eyes really different colors? Yes, I have heterochromatic eyes, as well as albinism in my left, which is why it is red. You are not imagining things,” she informed him with no malice in her tone. At least he was being tactful.

De Kuiper sagged his shoulders in obvious relief, “Ah, of course! I just… wasn’t sure if I was seeing things. My apologies for uh… staring. I do not mean to be so rude. Although, I have another um… possibly rude question…”

Moira tracked his gaze down to her right hand; the scarred and purplish one, which she was currently using to reattach the restraint onto his wrist.

“Yes, my hand is… unusual, but it’s not genetic. I was doing an experiment and… well. At any rate, you are not imagining that either.” She had tried to make her voice even, but she had missed her goal if de Kuiper’s wince was anything to go by.

He remained silent as she finished up, disconnecting his hand restraints from his ankles ones and extending the allowed range between the restraints so he could sit cross legged instead of folded up hugging his own knees.

Moira put the key fob back in her pocket and stood up from the bed when de Kuiper quietly muttered “It was an experiment that did this to me, too,” with a soft look to his eyes.

That… That was not what something she was expecting to deal with. She didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to ask if he thought his experiment had been worth the sacrifice, but on bad days she wondered that about her own experiment.

Thankfully, de Kuiper saved her from standing there floundering in silence on what to say next because he cleared his throat and asked, “I know you said that you don’t know much about my condition, but do you know when I can have these restraints off? I want… I want to be released. Soon.”

Moira sighed and ran a hand through her short red hair, “Truthfully? I don’t know. I will talk to your primary caretakers about getting them off as soon as they can, but I suspect that they will want you to be a bit more… grounded, first.”

At seeing his face fall at the news, Moira added, “however, I do think that with some work- medication, therapy, some good calming techniques… things like that – that you should get out of those fairly quickly. You will not be imprisoned forever.”

He nodded sullenly, but he looked more hopeful than he had a few moments ago. “Ok, I will work hard then.”

“Good to hear. Now, unless you have any other questions or pressing needs, I would like to take my leave and let you rest.” Now that everything was done, she was eager to get back to her lab.

“Ah, yes. I will not keep you any longer. Thank you, doctor.” The poor man looked sheepish, like he thought he had taken all her time.

“Goodbye, Dr. de Kuiper. Please get some rest.” Moira stuck her hands in her pockets (and suddenly realized that his horrible socks were still in there) as she turned to the door and walked out. She heard a quiet, “Goodbye, doctor,” from the man on the bed as she shut the door behind her.

* * *

Of course, that wasn’t quite the end of it. Instead of going back to her lab, Moira had to let Marie immediately escort her down a few more hallways, before ending up in a camera surveillance room with Mr. Nguyen.

Eyes still on a screen with a video feed of the room she had just come from, Mr. Nguyen immediately demanded, “Comm please,” with an outstretched hand in lieu of a greeting.

Moira rolled her eyes, but dutifully took out the earpiece. But before she dropped it into his palm, she also took out de Kuiper’s socks, tucked the comm in between them, and then dropped it into the awaiting hand.

Nguyen immediately jumped at the unexpected feeling of fabric instead of the plastic earpiece, and shot her a glare as he turned his hand to let the bundle drop onto the desk. She simply raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“Did I pass?” she asked, deciding to cut to the chase.

Nguyen’s eyes were still glaring at her, but his mouth curled into a lop sided smile. “With flying colors.”

“What was I being tested on, exactly? Hopefully not my ability to do a blood draw, you didn’t need me for that.”

Nguyen shifted to face her more directly and leaned forward, placing his elbows onto the desk. “What makes you think we didn’t need you for that?”

Moira scoffed. In the walk between de Kuiper’s room to here, Moira had had time to think about how idiotic the whole thing was. “If you want me to believe that you don’t have anyone on these grounds that has a tranquilizer gun and the ability to hit a mostly stationary _behemoth_of a man, I’m going to have to rethink the offer to work here. Even being underfunded and tucked in the shadows Blackwatch had one of those. Next you’ll tell me you only have one working coffee machine in the whole facility, and I _refuse _to work without caffeine.”

Nguyen gave a short bark of a laugh. “We do have multiple coffee machines. I think there would be building-wide mutiny if we didn’t. And yes, we do have a tranquilizer gun and a competent agent to wield it. This was more of a test to see _you_in action. You see, we have a file on your accomplishments, but it doesn’t tell us about how you act. We have some footage and eye witness accounts from when you were in Venice with Blackwatch, but my superiors wanted to make sure that your calm demeanor under pressure wasn’t a fluke.”

Moira smirked as Nguyen continued, “While you were never in any real danger, Project Sigma has injured and even killed bystanders in his room in the past, usually with his gravity ability but occasionally... well, he’s in restraints for a reason. However, you not only helped keep him calm several times, but you got close to him, rearranged his restraints, got your blood draw done without any hysterics or injuries to anyone involved. You don’t even have any formal training with mental health issues beyond your time at Backwatch, but you seemed to use your problem solving skills to great effect. To be honest, I think your performance will help us quite a bit. He seemed to react well to how you interacted with him.

“If I may cut to the chase, Dr. O’Deorain, you are a problem solver. Which, is very good, as we have some problems that need… solving. You do not shy away from problems presented to you, even if they are outside your area of expertise. That sort of work ethic, paired with the creative thinking you obviously show with your research is exactly what we need here in Talon.”

Here Nguyen leaned further forward with a conspiratorial grin on his face, “I have a feeling Dr. O’Deorain, that you will move quite quickly and easily up the ranks. In fact, I would like to put you in contact with the lead Psychiatrist of another project who are looking for some… creative ideas on what to do to make the asset even more useful to Talon. Tell me, have you heard of Project Widowmaker?”

Moira smiled widely. Perfect.

“Oh, I might have a few ideas...” she purred.


End file.
